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Miwaku no Zakuro	By : Tcharlatan Category: > Kyo/Kaoru Views: 2861 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. I do not personally know any of the members of Dir en grey, X Japan, or KISAKI, and do not profit from this work.

Chapter List
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Kyo dreamt of snakes. A whole knot of them; twisting around in his belly, eating away at his innards until nothing was left before crawling up his esophagus to escape out of his mouth. He was awoken, rudely and abruptly, when his stomach lurched for real, and the imagined pressure in his throat became a physical strain. Burnt-gold eyes snapped open, pupils narrowed down to pinpricks. He dragged himself gracelessly out of the futon he’d been sleeping on, staggering toward the nearest doorway his hazy mind registered, thanking every god he could think of when the room on the other side turned out to be a bathroom. It was a short trip, but he nearly collapsed twice, and it was only sheer force of will that carried him all the way to the toilet. Falling to his knees, clutching the bowl in both hands, he retched violently.
‘Gods, what did I drink last night?!’ he wondered miserably between waves of violent nausea. Nothing came up but thin, bitter bile, but still his stomach railed against him.
‘I don’t even remember drinking!’
‘Kisaki and I went to that shady club… then what?!’
Memory of the previous night refused to reestablish itself in Kyo’s aching head and once he’d gotten control of his stomach, he looked around himself in confusion. Just a sink and a toilet in a tiny room with blank, white walls. This wasn’t his bathroom. Had he gone home with some stranger in a fit of drunken poor judgment? Looking down, he was dismayed to find his clothes missing – even his jewelry – replaced by a thin white bathrobe held loosely shut with a narrow belt. Embroidered over the left breast was an insignia of a stylized black spider with an elegant red cross emblazoned across its abdomen like a black widow’s hourglass. He was completely nude but for someone else’s bathrobe! He cringed and pushed himself up off the ground, slapping the button to flush the toilet before shuffling miserably over to the sink to rinse his face and mouth.
‘Oh gods, what the hell did I do?’
‘Did I actually sleep with some random stranger?!’
‘Ugh… I met some of Kisaki’s creepy friends last night, didn’t I?’
‘Was it one of them?’
He seemed to remember a tall, effeminate man with blue and black dreadlocks touching his face, but after that… nothing. Had he gone home with that man? Had he been on top? It was rare, but it happened, and he didn’t feel like he’d been taken recently. He tried to remember the man’s name, but nothing came to him. How awkward. Water dripped off of his eyelashes and the tip of his nose and he sighed, raising his face to look tiredly into the mirror above the sink. He frowned when he noticed something out of place in his reflection.
‘What’s this?’
‘Fuck… that’s it, I’m never drinking again.’
‘Alcohol brings nothing but trouble…’
Resting snugly against his throat was a choker necklace that he knew for a fact he hadn’t been wearing the night before. It was secured by a square silver clasp with the same black widow design as the one on the robe engraved on the front, the cross on the spider’s belly formed by a brilliant, precisely-cut scarlet gem. The band itself felt like leather, soft and supple, if a bit thick. When he felt along the inside surface of the band, he came across two shallow metal nubs placed on either side of the clasp. He couldn’t fathom why studs would be placed on the inside of a necklace, and he wondered at the spider-and-cross insignia, but on the whole he found he liked the look of it. It was an elegantly simple piece of jewelry, and felt well-made.
‘This thing is really nice…’
‘Oh hell… I hope it wasn’t a gift from whoever I went home with.’
‘What do they expect in return if it was?’
‘Oh gods, please don’t let a drunken one-night-stand turn into something so much worse!’
Thinking to find his clothes from the previous evening so that he could at least face his ‘host’ with some dignity, he padded back out into the space he’d woken up in to look around. He disturbed by what he found; a barren room with hardwood floors and pristine white walls, its only furnishings a clock mounted on the wall next to a closed door, and the bed he’d woken up in. He originally had thought it was a futon – and sure enough, it was a heavy cushion laid directly on the floor – but he shivered when he saw that it was no simple mat. It was oval-shaped, with a fleecy-soft cover and had soft, raised walls that came up to just under knee height. He vaguely remembered it being comfortable, but he couldn’t get around the fact that it looked like nothing so much as a giant dog bed. Fighting off a growing feeling of trepidation, he moved to the door and gripped the knob, finding it securely locked.
‘I’m locked in… why am I locked in?!’
‘Maybe… maybe it’s just an accident!’
‘Y-yeah, it must be an accident.’
‘They don’t know the door is locked, they don’t know I’m stuck in here.’
“HELLO- ah!” he cried out, startled by a soft beep and a mild electrical shock that sent him reeling back, shaken and confused. It didn’t hurt all that much, just a soft sting, but it sent his heart racing and his body quivering.
“What th- ah!” Another beep, and another, stronger shock. “What’s- AH!”
That one hurt, and this time he realized where both the sound and the electricity were coming from. He wrapped his hands around the necklace at his throat with a look of dawning horror. Someone had put a shock collar on him?! He clawed at the device hysterically, searching for a release for the silver clasp and finding none. He pulled at the leather band over and over, as hard as he could, until the top edge began to rub the soft skin of his neck raw, but the thing wouldn’t so much as budge.
‘Oh shit, oh shit, it won’t come off! What the hell is happening?!’
Panting and shaking, he tried the door again, yanking on the knob with all of his strength. It didn’t budge. Looking around the room again, he saw no other possible exits; no windows, no doors besides the locked one and the one to the toilet. He was trapped.
His face twisting into a panicked grimace, he banged both fists on the door and called out frantically, fighting past the first few, lower-level shocks issued by the collar. “Hey- Nn! HEY IS- Hnn! IS ANYBODY- Fuck! SOMEBODY HEL- AGH!”
The pain of the last shock knocked him to his knees and he bit his lip until it bled, fighting to steady his rattled nerves and racing heart. Though his mind was screaming with hysteria, his body was quickly cowed into silence by the punishments issued by the collar and it was so hard to make himself push his voice past the threat of further reprimand. By the clock on the wall, it was eight-fifteen in the morning when he set himself to banging and scratching wildly at the door, beating it with his bare fists and feet until both were tender and raw. Twice, he tried to call for help again, but each time he was so swiftly and harshly rebuked by the device at his throat that he couldn’t force himself to keep up the effort.
‘Why is no one answering?!’
‘Can’t anyone hear me?!’
‘Am I… am I all alone?’
By noon, he had given up on the door and was searching his room; every corner, every millimeter of the walls, every floorboard for some other means of escape. He found a long ventilation grate at the top of one wall, but it was too high up for him to reach, and barely more than a few centimeters tall. There would be no getting out through there, and everything else was impeccably sealed. He then turned his attention back to the collar, feeling over and over again for a clasp, pulling at the thing with all of his strength until his neck bled where the leather had worn through his skin. No luck there either.
‘It’s not coming off!’
‘They put a collar on me!’
‘I have to get it off…’
‘A goddamn bark collar!’
By four in the afternoon, he had given up his struggles. Despondent, he sat on the disturbing bed and folded himself against the back wall, hugging his legs to his chest and waiting for something to happen. He was scared. He was lonely. He was hungry. Claustrophobia was beginning to strain his already-frayed nerves, and fear was eating away at him like the most pervasive venom. The need for a cigarette was becoming an increasingly-persistent discomfort as well; his head ached and his throat itched for want of hot, soothing smoke.
‘Why is this happening?’
‘When did I get here?’
‘Where is here?’
‘Oh no… Is Kisaki okay?’
‘What if they got him too?!’
When the clock read just after ten in the evening, he noticed the white light set into the room’s ceiling was beginning to dim, and he watched it anxiously. By ten-thirty, it had waned to an almost-imperceptible dark orange glow, and settled there. It was the only change he’d seen in the room besides the minutes ticking by on the clock, and for a moment, he hoped that it meant something – anything – was going to happen. Still silence dragged on, and he bit his lip dejectedly.
‘…No one’s coming for me?’
‘Are they just going to leave me here to rot?’
‘Why did they put me here in the first place?!’
‘I don’t understand…’
He tried his best to sleep, curled in a miserable ball on the disconcerting bed, hoping that maybe he’d wake up and this would all be a nightmare. But he woke frequently, and every time, his situation remained unchanged. Aches and crushing anxiety kept him up when he wasn’t shocking himself awake every time he groaned or cried out against fitful dreams. By one in the morning, the physical and emotional strains culminated in a hysterical fit of hyperventilation, thin tears and sweat sliding down his cheeks as he gasped desperately for air. It took nearly an hour before he could catch his breath again.
‘I want to go home…’
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Miwaku no Zakuro